One of Those Dreams
by Creatively Insane
Summary: Tony's acting a little strange, but Steve figures hey, that's just Tony. Of course, for Tony, this is extremely frustrating. Stony. Oneshot, slash, fluff.


Steve sank onto Tony's black leather couch, running a hand through his short, blond hair. Next to him, Clint held up a bag of popcorn, and Steve grabbed a handful, shrugging.

"What are we watching tonight?" asked Natasha, folding her legs onto the couch on Clint's other side.

"Some action movie," said Steve. "It was Tony's turn to choose again."

"I still maintain it should _always _be my turn to choose," said Tony, plugging a DVD into the player.

"Everybody gets a turn, Tony," said Bruce. "It's fair."

"But it's my house. This is my house."

"Shut up and watch the movie," said Steve. Tony huffed and scooted back, sitting cross-legged at Steve's feet, Bruce and Thor having taken the armchairs. Tony grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded through the previews, despite Thor's protestations that he liked 'the little pictures' and wished to 'view them further'. Steve smacked the top of Tony's head, but was succinctly ignored.

"What's this movie about, Tony?" Natasha asked.

"I'm fairly reasonably convinced stuff will blow up," he said.

"Yes, but what's it about?"

He gave her a look, like, 'I just told you,' and pressed play. "JARVIS," he said. "Turn off the living room lights."

They were plunged into darkness.

The movie, as promised, contained things blowing up. Otherwise, it was mostly forgettable. About two thirds of the way in, Clint fell asleep on Natasha's shoulder. Tony leaned back against the couch, his head between Steve's knees. In the glow of explosions from the television, his hair looked impossibly soft. Steve's fingers itched to touch it, but he guessed that would probably be weird.

By the time the movie ended, Natasha and Thor had fallen asleep, too, and though he would have denied it fervently, Tony was nodding off as well. Bruce flashed Steve a grin, and he took the movie out of the player, instead of waking Tony and making him do it. Bruce gathered his coat and bag and gave Steve a small wave. As Bruce headed out the door, Steve waved back, wondering how he was going to extricate himself from what was turning into a slumber party. He glanced over at Natasha, and saw that Bruce's exit had woken her. She gave him a small smile and stood, hauling Clint up with her. He leaned on her heavily as she steered him to one of Tony's guest bedrooms. She closed the door with a snap, and the sound woke Tony, who exclaimed, "I'm awake! Wha?" Steve laughed.

"Clint and Natasha are taking on of you rooms," Steve told him. "And I don't think Thor's getting out of that chair any time soon."

" 's not a problem," Tony mumbled. "Everybody can sleep here."

"Including you," said Steve. "C'mon, let's get you to your room."

"That a proposition, Cap?" said Tony, as Steve pulled him to his feet. "Cause I gotta tell you, I'm not that kind of girl."

"Right," said Steve, towing Tony after him. "Where's your room again?"

Once he'd convinced Tony to get in bed, Steve sat heavily by his feet, yawning. It had been a long day, and he just wanted some sleep himself.

One of Tony's feet nudged him.

"What is it, Tony?" he asked.

"Lookin' tired, Cap," Tony said.

Steve sighed. "Yes? So?"

"Maybe you should sleep over, too."

Steve sighed again. It _was _tempting. "Sure," he said. "Why not? I guess you do have enough rooms."

"Yeah," said Tony. "Or you could just, you know, stay here."

"Here, like, in your room?" Steve asked.

"You've gotta admit it's convenient," Tony said, sitting up.

Steve laughed awkwardly. "I guess I'm not that kind of girl, either, Tony," he said.

Tony smirked at him. "That's okay. I lied. I am."

Steve laughed, and stood. "I… I'll see you. Tony. I've gotta… go."

"Whatever you say, Captain America," said Tony.

"See you soon," Steve mumbled awkwardly, and he hurried from the room.

"Yes you will, Cap," said Tony, lying back down. "Yes you will."

The following morning Steve turned up at Tony's with a box of doughnuts and coffee for everyone. He let himself in, as all the Avengers had the codes to Tony's place, and snuck into the house, which was still quiet and empty, its occupants asleep. Steve had to stifle a laugh as he noticed Thor sprawled in his chair, sliding slowly, inexorably, toward the floor. Shaking his head, he headed into the kitchen, set the doughnuts and coffee on the sleek granite countertop. He started going through cupboards, pulling out breakfast foods. Bread, eggs, a package of bacon. He located a frying pan and started to cook, scrambling eggs and frying bacon. He'd always enjoyed cooking, and he found it comforting the way scrambled eggs were still just scrambled eggs, whether you were making them in the forties or the twenty-first century. The smell of bacon frying must have woken Thor, because he strolled into the kitchen and clapped Steve on the shoulder.

"Friend Steve!" he boomed. "You are preparing a traditional Midgardian breakfast, I see!"

"Yeah," said Steve. "Do you think you could wake the others? I'm sure they'd like some breakfast."

"Certainly!" said Thor, and he vanished into the house. Steve could hear him booming at Clint and Natasha, though he couldn't make out the words. He chuckled and turned back to his eggs, hoping they didn't maim him too badly.

As Steve started dishing out eggs, bacon, toast, and doughnuts, the others filed into the room. Natasha looked as put together and deadly as always, but Clint's eyes were half closed and his hair stuck up in little tufts. Tony trailed dejectedly after them, obviously hating everything.

"JARVIS," said Natasha. "Do you think you could text Bruce and let him know there's an Avengers breakfast happening?"

"I already have, Miss Romanoff."

"Thanks, JARVIS," she said, sliding into a chair at the breakfast table. Clint sat next to her, rubbing his eyes, and she patted his shoulder sympathetically.

As Steve was pouring coffee into mugs, Tony's arms wrapped around him from behind, his head pressed against Steve's back. "Steve," he whined. "Thor woke me up."

"I know, I told him to."

Tony pulled back and hit him. "You're both kicked out."

Steve turned, held out a mug. "I made you coffee."

Tony accepted this begrudgingly.

"And breakfast."

A smile flickered across Tony's face. "Fine."

Tony wandered over to the table and sat down next to Thor. The door opened and Bruce strolled in. He smiled at them and sat at the table as well. Steve brought over plates and mugs, and then he sat down to eat as well. They talked as they ate, but Tony kept touching Steve, reaching past him for the sugar or patting him on the arm, and every time he did Steve jumped a little. By the end of breakfast he saw Natasha looking at him weirdly, and when he started to clear the plates she leaned over and whispered something in Clint's ear. Clint looked at Steve, then looked at Natasha. The two of them stood up rather suddenly, and Clint tapped Bruce on the arm.

"Hey, Doc," he said. "We should get going."

"We should?" said Bruce.

"Yeah," said Clint. "Come on." He gave Tony a little wave. "Thanks, Tony. See you later."

Bruce stood uncertainly, and Natasha linked her arm through his and steered him out.

Steve, washing dishes, watched them go suspiciously.

"I am afraid I too must depart," said Thor, rising. "I have promised the Lady Jane that I would meet her today to locate some new supplies for her research."

"Ooh, shopping with the ladyfriend," said Tony, wincing. "Can't say I miss that."

"Farewell, friend Tony," said Thor, inclining his head. "And friend Steve! My thanks for the breakfast you have provided, it was most nourishing."

"Any time," said Steve. "I'll see you later."

Thor nodded, then made his way out the door after Natasha and the rest.

Tony looked at Steve and sighed. "Cap, it's 2012, you're going to have to use the dishwasher eventually."

Steve rolled his eyes. "We did have dishwashers in the forties, Tony."

"Good," said Tony. "Then you know how to use one. Come on, I wanna show you something."

Steve sighed and stopped washing plates, drying his hands on a dish towel. "What is it, Tony?"

"Come on," said Tony, grabbing one of Steve's hands and towing him into the living room.

Steve followed him, and sat on the couch when directed. Tony sat next to him. He looked at Tony.

"It's the living room."

"Yes," said Tony.

"I've seen the living room before, Tony," Steve said.

"Okay," said Tony. "I lied. I didn't actually need to show you anything."

And then Tony's mouth was on his, tentative and not an inconsiderable amount of nervous. Steve's mind went blank, and he was pretty sure there was a roaring in his ears. After a minute Tony pulled back.

"Um," said Steve.

"Yeah," said Tony, a little shakily. He stood up. "Ah. Sorry. I was… I…"

"Tony," said Steve, catching Tony's hand as he moved away. Tony looked down at him, and in one fluid movement Steve was on his feet again, and he was kissing Tony, and he kind of thought maybe he was having one of those weird dreams where you make out with your best friend in his living room, but then he realised he'd never actually had a dream like that, and he decided to just go with it. He brought his hands up to tangle in Tony's hair, and he was totally _right_, it _was_ crazy soft, and then Tony's hands were on his back, pulling him closer, and he forgot about being vindicated and just kept kissing him.

Steve wasn't exactly sure how they wound up on the couch, but that's where they were, some time later, when Bruce, followed by a protesting Natasha, returned to retrieve his shoulder bag.

"Oh," said Bruce.

"Yeah," said Natasha, hitting him. "Idiot."

"Actually," said Bruce. "That explains a lot."


End file.
